Imprisonment
by FieryFiction
Summary: Quit
1. Chapter 1

**_Copyrights: Hetalia and characters© Hidekaz Himaruya, Story© Me_**

**_Summary: A young American hero is walking home from school on Halloween night, but when lightning strikes he is forced to take refuge in the home of a madman._**

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><p>Chapter One<p>

It was that old house. You know the one. It makes children cry for their mother's and grown men look nervously behind their backs. The kind that every city and town has. It's a broken down eyesore with millions of terrifying rumors about it. The paint's falling off in rolls. The yard looks like a leopard could be stalking around somewhere in it with the grass and weeds being so tall and dense. The windows are boarded up, and the one's that aren't have large holes in the glass from rambunctious teens getting drunk or high or whatever and throwing something at it then running away like the little pussies they are. It also has that one or two huge oak trees that keeps all the sunlight away from the windows and porch. Sometimes it also has that ever swaying old tire swing tied to one of it's branches. You know the one. Well, anyways, it sits on the corner of my neighborhood. Right... next... to my house.

Mine's clean, pristine, overall perfect(I mean if it were anything less my mom would throw a cow, and my dad would probably knock my lights out and tie me to one of those rotisserie chicken things; you know the ones the cannibals use down in South America or wherever they are.), so it makes the damn thing look even creepier and uglier then it actually is. Well maybe not. I might just be able to say that 'cause I'm so used to it by now, but that's beside the point. The point is: it's Halloween, and my friends are fucking jackasses.

It was your average school day you know. You sit in a class and get bored out of your mind while all the girls swoon over you 'cause you're like the sexiest guy ever. I mean who doesn't want to date the tall, blond, tanned, football quarterback? If I weren't me I'd totally go gay for myself I mean seriously. There isn't one person on this Earth who can withstand my puppy-dog face and charming good looks. Not unless they're that sick twisted Russian exchange student. God damn communist bastard.

Anyways what was I saying? Oh yes. School was normal, until I started walking to my car. I got out to the parking lot and the god damn thing was missing. My friends decided it would be a good idea to move it to the teacher's parking lot as a friendly trick, so it got towed. Of course you can't blame them since they were high and all, but still. I had to _walk home_. My house if fifteen fucking miles away from the school. You know how much that sucked? Especially when it started _raining_? Yeah wasn't fun.

This story begins as I was walking past that god forsaken shack that the town called a haunted mansion. I was just walking miserably, almost to my house, no lightning or thunder so far. When all of a sudden there's fucking _ball lightning_ whizzing all around me. Being my brave self, I wasn't scared, but I saw a kitten on the creepy house's porch, so I ran over to protect it from those pathetic little sparks that surely would have fried his whiskers. The damn cat ran away when he saw me coming though so there I was, standing on the creepy old house's porch when something moved inside. I called, certainly didn't scream, to the person, asking who was there.

The front door, which was beside me, was flung open wide. I jumped as it slammed into the wall where I had been standing. A pale hand lashed out and dragged me in with incredible force. The guy must've had chloroform on him cause I passes out after that.

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><p><strong>AN:  
><strong>

**Yup there's the mildly amusing first chapter. Hope you enjoy it. The rest will be more like my real horror writing style if I can do it for this. With each story my writing style changes so we'll see.**

**Here's a sample of my real writing if you wanted to know before it's posted what it will be remotely like.**

**_"'Ah, sorry!' Alfred sat back in his seat, ignoring the quarreling pair. 'The door closed on it's own and freaked me out.'_**

**_'Eh? Closed on it's own, but I closed it,' A voice called from beside the American._**

**_He screamed and turned to face his Canadian step-brother Matthew wore the purple plaid pants of the school and the white button down shirt, like Alfred though he wore a white sweater vest, but it couldn't be seen since the younger always wore a red and white pull-over hoodie with the maple leaf from the Canadian flag on the pocket. Matthew never got in trouble for it though. He wasn't doing it to be troublesome or look cool. He was doing it to express his nationality. His eyes weren't grey in the least, they were blue tinged with violet. The step-brothers had the same hair color, but the younger one—who had only managed to be a Freshman this year because his grades were so good—had longer, slightly wavy hair that was parted in the middle of his head rather than being parted on the side. Where his brother had a cowlick, the Canadian had a long, curl that formed a loop. He had glasses as well, but they were slightly larger and more rounded. He also, childishly, carried a polar bear backpack. What? His mom bought his stuff and she seemed convinced that the younger brother was about seven years younger rather than one. But nonetheless he always used it, he even stuck his Student Council pin on it. Besides with the more childish features and sweater it would be pretty hard not to tell the brothers apart._**

**_'Mattie! When'd you get here bro?' Alfred asked, grinning at his younger look alike. _**

**_'Eh? When'd I get here? Just now... When the door closed... Thanks for noticing asshole,' he added sarcastically, and rather inaudibly, to the end. The elder step brother didn't hear past the 'Just now' and practically ignored him the whole time he was talking so he just grinned and nodded. The younger brother got the desk that was once in front of Arthur's and turned it around to face the other._**

**_'If you say so,' the American shrugged after a moment."_**

**I only used the (') because it was in an excerpt from another Horror I'm working on(That one I'm actually rewriting) so I had quotes around the whole thing... The author's note is longer than the fanfiction now... lovely._  
><em>**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Copyrights: Hetalia and Character© Hidekaz Himaruya, story© me**_

_**Summary:**_ **_ A young American hero is walking home from school on Halloween night, but when lightning strikes he is forced to take refuge in the home of a madman._**

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><p>Chapter Two<p>

What a pleasant surprise it must have been to have that lovely little neighbor boy way standing upon his porch. A smirk slid across a pale face. Scrawny, but strong hands let the blind's flick shut. He had been sitting in his living room, observing the world as one often does during a storm when the young man ran, instead of home, to his house.

The figure was dressed in a nice, clean and pressed white button-down dress-shirt with a gentle green sweater vest pulled atop of it. The man wore well ironed and neat, brown dress pants and shoes to match. There was a red tie around his neck, tucked under the sweater vest. He wore reading glasses on his pale, upturned nose. A book lay open on his coffee table and he quickly took the spectacles away from his brilliant emerald eyes that rested below a large pair of brown eyebrows and set them upon the pages. His hair, once a nice, pale gold was now a darker, richer gold ever darkening with his days spent inside his home. It was messy as the figure hurried to the door.

He flung it open hurriedly, in an excitement to see the boy, resulting in a jumpy cry of fear from the teen. He had watched him grow for years. The boy was the only one that never looked upon the house with fear, but with acceptance. The man felt a connection to him because of that acceptance for his shambled old shack he called a home. He felt as if that acceptance was also pushed towards him.

People for ages had feared him and his harsh temper. They laughed at him behind their backs and made up stories about "that creepy kid who lived on the corner." The high schoolers that the man had gone to school with always said the worst things. That he was a monster. That he killed his own parents and poisoned the town's water lines.

The man couldn't get away from distrustful glances or hateful glares because, even from the start, everyone believed them. Maybe it was his fault. He had never corrected them, only brushed them off. He never made any friends that would defend him either. But now there was someone who didn't look upon his with fear or hate, and he was here.

Once the door was open, he saw those brilliant sky-grey eyes up close for the first time, and his heart warmed, along with his face. The boy that responded to the name Alfred F. Jones as the elder remembered from when he was a trouble-making little boy had golden hair, about the same shade as his now when not drenched and turned a dull brown. He was tall a looked _muscled_, not grotesquely muscled and not too small, it was a nice—and quite attractive—balance between the two. The other could tell by how his drenched clothing sticking nicely to his tanned skin. Thunder registered in the back of his mind and the elder quickly pulled the teen inside.

Alfred looked so perturbed by the situation at first, then his eye rolled back into his head and slid shut. He lay still except the slight flare of his nostrils and rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. The figure sighed, and dragged the younger blond up to his bedroom.

The elder didn't really want his bed to be soaked by the boy's wet clothing. He bit his lip as he stared down at the younger face, wondering how he would react to waking in the strange home, nude—he doubted Alfred would really fit into his clothing—or in someone else's clothing. The younger could catch something if he hadn't already. The elder blond propped him up against the side of his bed and slid off his clothing, not without taking time to admire the other's well build form. He quickly hurried to his closet and pulled out some of his larger clothing, hoping that it would fit him. All he had was sweat pants and a white shirt he had used when exercising. The man grabbed a pair of boxers, hoping they would fit and quickly dressed the boy again.

He didn't know how he had managed to get the teen into the bed considering how heavy he was. He knew teenagers ate a lot, muscled weighed a bit, and that the younger had a bit of fat on him, making him look a little padded and making him look more cute, but there was no reason for the teen to be that dense.

The man puffed as he rested beside Alfred in the bed. He looked over and a smile spread across his face. God damn he was lucky. The one person who wasn't scared of him or his home was so gorgeous, if you disregarded his weight.

The man had always been alone—even with his parents there he had been alone—he didn't mind though; it was his life. But he had always dreamed of being with someone, not just a friend, but a lover. His heart felt alight at the idea of romance, but he was never able to find the right girl as a boy. He soon found out why. He was gay. That gave the townsfolk even more of a reason to regard him with malice. Regardless though he had searched, none had ever warmed his face, or brought a loud beating of his heart. This boy was though, and he wasn't scared to be near him.

The sheets shifted below them as the elder rolled up onto and elbow and looked over the teen's face. He still looked so young, but the man knew him to be eighteen by now. He was a bit younger. What would that matter though? Some of the hair, drooped into the lightly freckled face and it started twitching. Nose and eyelids twitched and soon the eyes cracked open. "Where...?" he muttered, starting to sit up.

The man, quickly sat up himself, his face warm again surely with a nice layer of pinkish blush. "H-hello A-Alfred," he said nervously, an English accent tinging his voice. His voice would have been hoarse and crackled if he didn't hum and sing during his lonely days.

A puzzled face swung towards him. "Who are you? Whe-where am I?" he asked, a little bit of worry showing on his features. His voice sounded so young. It didn't have a low bass of most men's voices, it was light and sandy with his quiet askings, but not effeminate, not at all, just young, but not childish. It was perfect and adorable. He had listened to the teen's loud echoing laugh many a times, but had never heard his voice so clearly.

"I," he swallowed nervously, "I'm Arthur Kirkland. I-I live on the corner, next door to you," he explained quietly.

"Y... you... You're the creepy old man that lives next door?" the American asked, his head and eyebrows cocked, and his voice uncertain as if he doubted his words. "N-not that you look that old and creepy!" he added to the end.

Arthur had been staring at him in worry for a moment but then smiled and chuckled lightly. "Yes I'm the creepy old man. Nice to finally meet you Alfred," he nodded. The Englishman extended a hand.

"Yeah," the younger nodded, taking his hand and giving it a firm shake. He then noticed his clothing and froze. "Um... where are... _my _clothes?"

"T-they were all w-wet, a-and I didn't w-want you to catch anything. I-I know it's _creepy_ but I meant nothing by it," the man quickly insisted. His heart rate picked up. Alfred would want to leave him now. He'd leave him and then Arthur would be alone again. The Englishman moved closer to the younger and placed a hand on top of one of his, silently begging him not to leave as a fluttering feeling spread throughout him at the contact.

Alfred looked down at his hand, "Uh-huh," he said. "Well if it isn't too much trouble could I get them back? I kinda need to head home before anybody starts to worry about me."

"No!" The British accent screamed at him. "I-I mean, no. Th-they aren't quite dry yet you see," he chuckled nervously to punctuate his sentence.

The teen's expression grew puzzled. "I don't want to trouble you though," he tried.

"No, it's no trouble, no trouble at all," Arthur insisted, anything to keep the boy there. "In fact it's nice to have company. Truth be told I would love it if you stayed for dinner."

Alfred laughed loudly, "Oh you definitely don't want me staying for dinner."

"Why would I not? You seem to be lovely company," the Brit frowned.

"I eat like a pack of starved coyotes," the boy chuckled.

The man was becoming painfully aware of how close he was to Alfred as the other spoke. "I-I'm sure it's not that horrible," he muttered, his eyes locking on the boy's lips. The elder blond licked his own and felt himself leaning forwards. Quickly he pressed his lips against the teens.

"Woah!" Alfred yelped. The younger blond jumped and fell off the bed, slamming his head on the floor. He groaned loudly, during his fall his glasses had fallen off and went tumbling away from him.

Arthur leapt off the bed. "Alfred are you alright?" he asked worriedly. As he landed on the floor he heard a loud crunching noise. The man looked down the see the younger's glasses underfoot. He felt sick. No this was going all wrong! Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! He helped Alfred, who groaned loudly, to sit up against his dresser. "I'm sorry, you see I-I got carried away, please don't leave," he begged the last part almost inaudibly. His green eyes were flicking over the boy's face and one of his hands which rested on his cheek.

Alfred didn't hear the quiet plea and started to get up. "I think I'll just head home now Mr. Kirkland. I-I won't charge you anything for my glasses, say I'll broke 'em in football or something. If you'll excuse me," the boy muttered. He brushed past Arthur who sat staring at the spot where the teen had been.

Fuck. Fuck! FUCK! Arthur grabbed his hair in his fists and nearly screamed. Look what he had done, he'd screwed up. Now he was going to be alone again. "No, not again. Never again..." he whispered. His eyes flew to his dresser which he quickly threw open. He ripped out almost all the clothing and removed a gun. The man laughed at it and ran downstairs where he heard the front door opening.

"Don't you fucking move Alfred Jones!" the man shouted, he had the gun pointed at the boy. The younger blond looked back over his shoulder with a confused expression. Arthur hurried closer and pointed the gun right at his chest.

"What are you doing?" Alfred asked, unable to see the gun pointed at him.

"Come with me," Arthur hissed. He pulled the teen close and shut the door. The man jabbed the gun in the boy's side who yelped in surprise.

"Wha-" he started.

"You're not leaving me to die alone in this place!" The elder blond snapped, he started dragging Alfred to a door below his staircase. It was a hard struggle with the teen trying to break out of his grip and run, but a bullet shot at the floor soon stopped that. Arthur threw the door open and dragged the younger blond down a flight of stairs that ended in two doorways. The man threw open the one on the left and threw the boy into the darkness. Quickly he slammed the door shut and grabbed a key from off of it's frame and locked it. "I won't be alone..." he whispered, tears starting to run down his face.

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><p><strong>AN**

**Yay for fail writing and plot 8D**


	3. Chapter 3

**Copyrights: Story© Me, Characters© Hidekaz Himaruya**

**Summary: A young American hero is walking home from school on Halloween night, but when lightning strikes he is forced to take refuge in the home of a madman.**

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><p>Chapter Three<p>

It took a long time before Alfred could hear anything outside the door. The silence and darkness had started suffocating him the moment the door had clicked shut. The boy sat up as footsteps came calmly towards him. There was muttering and a click. The door opened slowly and the light was flicked on. The blond had expected the same man around thirty years older or more to enter the room, but instead came a boy around his age.

The teen had bright leafy eyes and shaggy, bright blond hair. The freckles bridging his nose and on his arms showed he spent quite a bit of time outside. His skin wasn't tanned though, it was pale and slightly reddened as if he had just had a session of being out doors. His face was built a lot like Arthur's, but it seemed gentler, less striking excluding the eyebrows which looked the same except they lacked the bit of grey that had started going into them on the older man's face. The boy in the door stared at Alfred with wide confused eyes.

"Um... 'ello," he said after a moment, his voice heavily laced with an English accent. It sounded like Arthur's as well except younger and less burdened.

"Um... Hi..." the other blond muttered from his place on the floor. He was squinting in the light, and though he was unable to see clearly he could still make out these things.

"I, um... didn't know my Uncle Arthur had guests..." the strange boy muttered.

"Who are you?" Alfred let slip right as the other finished speaking.

"I'm Arthur Kirkland the fifth," the boy replied, his eyebrow crooking up a bit at the question. "And since you asked I assume it wouldn't be rude of me to ask you your name."

"I'm Alfred Jones," the boy on the floor replied. The teen in the doorway nodded and walked over to him, staring down at him a bit unsurely. Alfred quickly scrambled to his feet when he realized he was still sitting.

"Well Alfred Jones I hope you don't mind me inquiring as to what you are doing in my uncle's storage room," Arthur frowned.

"I..." Alfred was going to tell the English boy the whole story, but his voice caught in his throat. The other teen stared at him expectantly. "He um... He told me to wait down here for him." Why did he say that?

Arthur seemed oddly pleased with the answer. "Sorry, but the old man's gone senile," he chuckled, shaking his head. "He went out grocery shopping. I've been called in to house sit for him while he's gone."

"Oh well then I should probably come back at a later time..." the American said. He nodded to Arthur. "It was um... nice meeting you." He caught the other boy scowl as he turned to walk out of the room.

"Oi Alfred, why don't we go somewhere more comfortable and wait for him. I'm sure he'll be home quick enough," the English teen called.

A chill ran up Alfred's spine. He turned and looked back at a smirking Arthur. His mouth went dry the moment their eyes made contact and his mind seemed to blur a bit. He lost the ability to think straight as the other started walking towards him. Before he realized it an arm slipped around his shoulders and started leading him up the staircase into the main room. Once there the boy snapped out of his daze. "Um I really should be getting back home," he muttered, trying to pulled out of the other's grip gently.

Arthur frowned and gripped his shoulder tighter. "Oh I'm sure they will be fine. If my uncle remembers you when he's back he'll get all sad again. Not many people are willing to visit him you see and he gets terribly lonely..." the other trailed off, gaining a sad look in his eyes. His voice sounded as if he were the one being isolated, not his uncle.

A cold rush of consciousness ran down the American's spine. He was about to say no, but the depressed look on Arthur's face made him stop. Alfred had a hero complex, and upon seeing anyone sad he had to fix the problem. "Alright," he nodded.

Arthur perked up and smirked as he started leading him up the stairs. Alfred was suddenly regretting going with him.

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><p><strong>AN**

**I know short chapter. I've kinda been really depressed lately and not in the mood to work, plus I have school and my mouth has been killing me so I'm sorry for taking so long to update I'll try to update this again in a day or two then I have to update my other two stories which are much more developed. I honestly had no idea as to whether or not I was goign to go with this idea, but I couldn't think of anything else without changing the rating of the fic.**


	4. Quick Update Sorry

Hey guys 8C for those of you who are still interested in the stories, now that it is summer and I have the time, I shall be updating more. I'm sorry for the long break. If you still want to read them I will be updating all of my stories within the next week. I've started writing faster due to a fanfiction I wrote for a fandom that you wont find on fanfiction. I updated once a day all of Spring Break and afterwards it was once every day or two days. So I should be updating more often and probably better quality. I might get stuck at points and have to livestream to ask for help, if you want to watch out for livestreams I will probably post journals on my deviantArt about it. I would use Twitter, but my followers are mainly people from that other fandom so...

Anyways, That's all for now, thanks to all of you who have stuck around during my long break. For those of you who read Break -Rewritten- it'll be updated late tonight(as in 2-5 central time) or tomorrow sometime around 9. For my other stories they will be updated Tuesday and Wednesday/Thursday. I'll be trying to work out a scheduled for them.

Bye guys 83


	5. So sorry

Okay guys I know you are going to shoot me for the amount of times I have done this, but I'm not going to be finishing this story.

With all of my Hetalia fanfictions I start writing the first idea that pops into my head without planning it, and now that I took a break and am coming back to it, I realize how much I dislike this story. I would start it over, but I'm unsure as to how I would execute it properly.

After writing other stories for another fandom I really learned how important planning completely before writing was. I mean I would keep ideas in my head before hand and just blissfully write and try to hit those points, but the points were meant to be more spread out then I was doing. This story became jumbled together when I would have liked to have it more spread out and have more ideas compacted in.

I also have no clue where I was taking this story. I'm really sorry guys, if any one of you would like to write it instead you are welcome to. Whenever you post it I could put up a chapter saying that you are doing it and link them your story, but I really can't do this.

I will never be able to say sorry enough for doing this to you guys, especially after saying I would update.


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